


Kind of Kindergarten

by TheGoldenShadow



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Back to School, Clerical Error, Gen, Kindergarten, Marinette Makes a Statue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28199343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoldenShadow/pseuds/TheGoldenShadow
Summary: Once you left kindergarten, you just sort of assumed that would be the end of it. The last time you ever had to set foot in there, unless you had a kid you needed to look after. If not your own, then one that someone else in your family had made without your express permission.And definitely not because the school kept accidentally putting you there.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> A wee commission from jacobgross777!

Once you left kindergarten, you just sort of assumed that would be the end of it. The last time you ever had to set foot in there, unless you had a kid you needed to look after. If not your own, then one that someone else in your family had made without your express permission.

Quite rude.

Regardless, you didn’t usually find yourself back behind those little desks, sat in those little chairs. Sat next to other little kids in equally little chairs.

Marinette shouldn’t have been there at all, really.

“Umm, Miss Abreo?” she said, raising her hand.

The elderly teacher gave Marinette a quick look, briefly turning back to her book before carefully saving the page.

“Yes, Marinette?”

“Can I go yet?”

Miss Abreo turned back to her book, quickly unsaving the page. “Admin says you’re to stay in this class until the end of the school day.”

Yes, she had said that. “Have you asked them _why_ I need to stay here for the rest of the day?”

The book went back down, this time the corner of the page folded over, and the cover clamped shut. “Frankly, it’s more effort for us if we move you out of here mid-day rather than setting you back up in your normal class tomorrow.”

But… what?

“That makes no sense!”

“Of course, it does. Admin has informed me of the situation and that’s why we’re keeping you here until tomorrow.”

“No- I mean, yes, that _technically_ makes sense, but why can’t you just let me leave? I can go to my normal classes.”

“What if there’s a fire?”

“A… a fire?”

“Yes, what if there’s a fire?”

“I go outside and stand at the designated meeting point?” They’d had that drilled into them the first week of school. It would be stranger if they hadn’t, in all honesty.”

“Which meeting point?”

“The one outside the stairs?”

“Brilliant idea, Marinette. You’ll stand with your usual class. Which means when I go through the register for present students, I’ll have one missing, and you will have one extra.”

“Uh-”

“But we won’t know that until the aftermath. Likely after I’ve rushed back in here to save a poor student who doesn’t exist because you wanted to stand somewhere else.”

No, but- “But you know that I’m-”

“I might have to leave suddenly, too. In which case an assistant will have to take register outside. They do _not_ know who you are and will also attempt to rush through a burning building to save a child that does not exist.”

She was insane, or malleable to a fault under the mighty arm of the school’s admin department. Either option felt especially bad for very different reasons.

“Why are you so focused on there being a fire? You could just leave a note on the register! Or something!”

“This is a school, not a boyband fan club.” Boyband fan club? “I can’t just make a note on a piece of official information and count that as legally binding.”

“I’m fifteen!”

“And you’re currently enrolled in my class until the end of the school day. if you leave, it will be put against your record.”

“You can’t just keep me in kindergarten for a day because a computer said so.”

“I’m not. I’m keeping you here for a day because a legal document states this is where you are meant to be.”

It was stupid. It was so utterly beyond stupid. If stupid was a country, and it had, like, forty countries around it, Marinette would be in an ocean on a different planet. Though if she was on another planet, she doubted the addition of countries around the country of Stupid really mattered that much. Nor the fact that she was in an ocean…

The metaphor had gotten away from her, but the point remained the same.

“You’re keeping me here because a computer says so.”

As if Marinette really was just a petulant child throwing a tantrum in _kindergarten_ , Abreo pinched at the bridge of her nose and let out a long-suffering sigh. “Marinette, I have far too many children to be looking after and even more work to be getting on with before the day is done. I do not need a stroppy teenager acting like one of the children in my care on top of that.”

In that moment, more than a teenager, or even as Ladybug, Marinette really did feel like a stroppy little child.

“If you leave, it will be noted and it will count as you skipping class. Something I dare say would look rather unprofessional on any future applications.”

… It was only one day, right? Surely in hindsight it would look incredibly silly. “Well… yes, but-”

“You are in this class until the end of the day. Make of that what you will; I am not going to change my mind for you, just as much as I wouldn’t for anything else that I’m told by the school.”

Then she was a massive idiot.

_Idiote!_

“If it pleases you, I will make a note of your… _unpleasant_ experience with the alteration to your schedule. But the fact remains that the school records say you are here, and I am unable to change any of that.

It sounded more to Marinette that Abreo just couldn’t be bothered adding extra work to her pile at the end of the day. Because why wouldn’t a fifteen-year-old stuck in kindergarten be more important than finger painting and papier Mache dinosaurs?

And as Marinette stewed on that, her silence was taken for something else entirely.

“I’m glad to see that you’ve come around to _my_ way of thinking,” Abreo said, her smile long and condescending. “The _younger_ children will be in from their break soon. I can expect you to behave?”

Marinette grit her teeth. “Sure. _Behave._ ”

“Because remember you _are_ fifteen. Any undue action towards the children will be treated most severely.”

_Why did being fifteen only matter when it did and not when it didn’t?!_

It was not often that Marinette felt angry. Miffed, perhaps. She had become comfortable with _miffed_ when the situation called for it. Maybe she wasn’t really angry right now; she just couldn’t tell what angry really was.

But this hit something at the back of her teeth that made her want to absolutely rip them out.

“Right,” Marinette managed. “Sure.”

One day.

Eight hours. Or so.

All she had to do was survive eight hours with ten or more terrible tiny little children and then she could get back to her normal school life.

That was a thing that she could do.

She was Ladybug; compared to her life fighting crime, spending time in a class for little kids would be a breeze.

This was definitely something she could do.

A small bell chimed somewhere in the distance, one rung by someone who had done the deed so often that it almost felt entirely robotic. _Almost._

A mysterious unseen assistant had declared the first break of the day to be over, and the horde returned with a battle cry of peppy screams and voices that were pitched far too high.

Then the door opened. _The children had returned._

It was a horrifying spectacle. What felt like a million tiny hands reaching from the outside world towards Marinette, ready to pull her apart with sticky fingers covered in mud and whatever else they found on the ground outside.

All of them smiling wide smiles, running towards her with a hunger for _fun_ and _entertainment_ and far too many things that Marinette had not mentally prepared herself for.

She was going to die.

Marinette wondered if it was still too late to back out or skip school for the day.

But a death at their hands or not, children were perceptive. And even if they weren’t, it would have been especially hard for the majority to miss the teenager sat right in the middle of their desks.

Were they their desks? Did they do work in kindergarten?

Or was it all painting and drawing and playing with clay and sand?

There were girls. “Who’s that?”

“She’s super tall.” And boys.

“There’s stranger at my desk!” and… more of each. “At _my_ desk.” A lot more.

Marinette resolved that she would be finding out what they did on a day-to-day basis, whether she wanted to or not.

“Miss Abreo! Miss Abreo, there’s a girl in the classroom.”

And Miss Abreo replied, her voice a gentle bell in an otherwise heated room filled with tiny chaos. “You’re right, Samual! This is Marinette. Say hello, everyone.”

Like the little hive-mind they were, they all replied in unison; “Hello Marinette!”

Marinette just looked Abreo, stood there with charming smile and her charming voice. Her posture was softer, her features more comfortable on her face. Like a great-grandmother seeing the new addition to the family for the first time.

She gave off an aura of genuine warmth. One that went very much against the reality Marinette had somehow left thirty seconds ago. What happened to the woman she been talking to?

Why wasn’t she grumpy? And grouchy? And a lot of other things starting with G?

And a lot of other things beginning with very different letters.

“And she will be in our class for the remainder of the day,” Abreo continued, her voice still light and approachable. “Make sure she feels welcome.”

“Okay, Miss Abreo!” they said, as one.

It was normal, for children. And normal for a class of children, but the voices ringing together in one, off-beat harmony made Marinette uncomfortable all the same.

But that was the children.

Next came the rest of the school day. Only a few minutes after everyone was in, all the little kids were sat at their equally smalls desks, sitting on small chairs designed specifically for said small humans. Marinette’s chair felt bizarre to sit on, like she was some wanderer in Wonderland and she was suddenly bigger than she had any right to be.

Again, a very rational reaction to tiny furniture. But the allusion to Wonderland felt all the more accurate when the first class of the day was declared. If not directly, then because of how strange it seemed for Marinette to take part in.

The children absolutely roared when Abreo spoke her almighty words.

“As promised, today we’re making party hats.”

For whatever reason, it seemed to be the best promise in the world. The chatter rose up, the light tones of children so engrossed in something that you’d think they’d been waiting their whole lives to do it.

Even if they were promised yesterday, Marinette supposed it would have felt like their whole lives. God knows everything felt too far away when she was in kindergarten.

The children next to her, their eyes sparkled. One little girl in particular.

“I’m making mine _black,_ ” tapping her fingernails on the table and conspiring with the boy next to her. “With four skulls and a cat.”

“What other colour?”

The girl pondered. “Maybe I should make the cat silver? To make the hat more shiny.”

“Or you could make it purple. I’m making my whole hat purple. I’m gonna do stars.”

“Ooh, you should do black stars, then it’ll look like the stars are black rather than white.”

The boy’s little mouth let out a silent, “Ooh,” of his own before he nodded in apparent understanding. “And then it’ll look like an _evil_ wizard hat.”

“All the best wizards are the evil wizards,” she replied.

Then she looked at Marinette.

Maybe Marinette had been staring too hard or listening in too intently. Maybe children were just that inquisitive – no, wait… they definitely were. Even if she hadn’t been so close, Marinette doubted it would have been long before one of them tried speaking with her.

“What are you going to put on your hat?”

But when you spoke with children, there was always that urge to settle down. The urge to calm your voice and make sure you did nothing that could possibly make them feel bad for being who they were. Marinette couldn’t be mean to kids. It was a fundamental fact of her universe that she would always be nice to kids.

That didn’t mean she was any more comfortable. “I think I’ll just sit this one out.”

Both kids looked at her as if she’d claimed the sky was made from cheese. “You don’t wanna make a party hat?”

And Marinette suddenly felt like she was the idiot for trying to say the sky was made from anything other than cheese.

“I’m… good?”

“You should make a party hat,” the boy said. “Leila gave me extra glitter when I dropped mine my shoes.” Was Marinette going to get context?

“I’m Leila,” the little girl added.

And then the boy. “I’m Martine.”

No context to the glitter story, apparently. But little kids had introduced themselves, and it felt almost inhumane not to do the same. “I’m Marinette.”

“We know. Miss Abreo told us your name.”

Oh, right. “Just thought I’d tell you again,” Marinette said, her smile… somewhat forced.

Leila and Martine looked briefly to each other, no trace of an attempt at being subtle. Their brows furrowed and they shared a look of unbridled uncertainty.

That was another thing about kids; they were unfiltered. Mostly. They hadn’t got the memo about hiding certain emotions from certain people, for better or for worse.

That included talking to someone you thought was entirely weird, it seemed. But then they turned back.

“I’m Martine,” he said again.

Leila’s eyes widened a little as she nodded at Marinette. “I’m Leila. Now we’ve all said our names twice.”

… Marinette had to admit… that was cute.

“Are you gonna make a party hat now?”

 _Was_.

The rest of the class were shuffling around at their own tables, some vaguely listening to their teacher as she prepared some materials. Others fell into the same pattern as Leila and Martine; what they wanted to make, how they were going to make it and what else could they possibly stick onto their hats to ensure that their hat was indeed the best hat in the world.

“-and if you want to use the scissors, you must wait patiently and come to the Safety Table and wait your turn. There is plenty of time for-“

“I might skip the silver cats,” Leila said. “I don’t want to wait to cut out the silver paper.”

“What you going to put on your hat, then?”

“The skulls stickers from the Big Body Book. Then I’m gonna glue the silver sequins onto their eyes. Then I’ll get the white pencils.”

Very logical. She knew that you wouldn’t see much on black, at least. Not without preplanning, at any rate. Leila _could_ use pens, but it still wouldn’t show up very well.

Either Leila had been in that situation before, or she was just that intelligent for her age.

“I think I still want the black stars. If I draw three, Miss Soulier can help me cut them out.”

“I could cut them out for you,” Marinette found herself saying.

She wasn’t going to ruin their day, just because she wanted to leave and never come back ever again.

Plus, she’d be a terrible superhero if she didn’t at least offer to help some little kids use the scissors.

“But you’re not at the Safety Table,” Martine said, pointing to one end of the room.

Marinette looked towards the so-called Safety Table. At the table was sat a teaching assistant, one that held dominion over the almighty scissors. She had one pair in front of her and various other material scattered around her. They laid in heaps, hurriedly pushed aside at her presence.

Marinette could only assume the Safety Table wasn’t a permanent fixture in the classroom. Hadn’t she used those little plastic scissors back in kindergarten?

Or had they been banned by a rogue parent’s complaint as well?

And given Marinette’s stint as a temporary tudent in the room in the first place, Martine might have actually had a point.

“Then I shall ask,” Marinette eventually responded, as any intelligent teenager would. “I’m definitely old enough to use the scissors.”

Abreo didn’t seem to agree.

“Absolutely not.”

“I. Am. _Fifteen_.”

“Don’t be stupid; I know you’re fifteen. The issue-” She turned to face a little girl, her tone, even her posture changing to reflect the audience. Then she turned back. “The issue is that scissors aren’t allowed anywhere except the Safety Table to ensure safety.”

Marinette sighed to absolute no one that cared about her plight. Nobody. “Then I can sit at the Safety Table.”

Whether she was considering the notion or not, Marinette caught Abreo’s eye wandering and followed. She saw Martine and Leila, peering at them from their little table.

She was holding some silver card and him, black paper.

Despite the lack of children present, Abreo’s eyes softened, only a little. Enough for Marinette to imagine that the change in attitude was meant for her.

It was not.

“You have permission to sit at the table and cut out for the children. But remember you are a student here, not an assistant.”

If she was, Marinette supposed the day would almost feel like a reward. Helping out kids? Working to make their day better? Amazing. Fun, even.

Spending the day as a kid, in kindergarten?

Still the biggest ‘no’ that Marinette could muster.

“And do not make promises to the children you are no qualified to keep. You are required to be here today. You are not being paid.”

Didn’t Marinette know it.

But taken over to the Safety Table she was, and within a chair she was firmly put.

The woman, possibly Miss Soulier, already sat there perked up. “Oh, you _are_ a new assistant,” she said. “I knew it!”

“No, she isn’t,” Abreo replied, before Marinette had even an inch of a chance. “Admin have placed her here today. She’s staying to avoid any further complications to the scheduling.”

_I knew it!_

“Legally a student, then?” How many people knew about these stupid rules?!

“Yes. Definitely not an assistant. Make sure she is treated as such.”

A minor explanation and Abreo was off, back to her place at the front of the classroom. What she was doing, Marinette couldn’t be sure. But it was all she could ever remember her own teachers doing in her stint at kindergarten, so it must have held some level of merit.

Not much more and Marinette was rewarded with her own set of (blunt, barely sharpened, smooth at the end for added safety) scissors.

All praise.

And not a moment later was Martine in front of her. “I need four black stars.”

 _What happened to three?_ Marinette thought, but not before Miss Soulier gave him a brief, stern look.

“Please,” he added.

Leila came next, asking for the cats she had intended to abandoned, as did a few others in the minutes afterwards. But even that seemed to end, eventually. Scissors were not the universally popular choices for hat-making.

Abreo was very quick to make use of this.

“You have helped out the children. You’ll be heading back into the class.”

Marinette didn’t know how many times she would have to argue her point, but she would try.

“I could help you out today.”

“Not legally qualified.”

“But you just let me use the scissors.” _The scissors!_

“Older student are allowed to offer minor assistance. They are not allowed to act as assistant as they please without direction confirmation from the principal.”

“Then we can ask-”

“And because of the admin error, we can’t upgrade your position, either.”

It was all just red tape, wasn’t it? Behind the bricks and the mortar and all the finger paints, it all came down to rules that needed to be followed, even if those rules with utter rubbish.

Ugh. God forbid someone like Chloe found out about all of this. If she hadn’t already.

Marinette would never live it down.

She wasn’t sure if she could live it down _now_ , and she was currently the only one that knew about it. Because of course she wasn’t allowed to text Alya.

_No phones in the classroom._

Harder to hide it when you were the largest and least conspicuous person in a room full of tiny children. Though Marinette at least appreciated the security and privacy concerns on that one.

But her being there wasn’t, apparently.

It was all so pointless and stupid and Marinette could not wait to be in her usual class the next day. She would kill for the chance to be falling asleep in the middle of an equally pointless lecture.

At least there, it would be a pointlessness that she could understand.

But she had to get through the rest of the day first.

Facing Miss Abreo, Marinette nodded. “Fine. I’ll head back into the class.”

Abreo gave her a grim look. “Glad to see you’ve come to your senses.”

It was just one day.

Marinette could handle that.


	2. Day Two

Marinette could indeed handle one day.

It had been tiring, but she’d done it.

Being made to stand in front of Miss Abreo for the second day in a row was more than tiring. It pulled down Marinette’s whole body, an invisible weight clutching every inch of her soul.

“You said it was one day.”

“It _was_ one day,” Abreo replied, her tone almost as grim as Marinette’s. “I checked myself. But someone made changes to _that_ schedule, so now you’re here un until Friday.”

Friday.

 _Friday_.

It. Was. _Tuesday._

Tuesday!

“How can I be here until Friday?! That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Admin has said-”

“I’m hearing a lot about admin, but nothing that seems…” Marinette slowed, her eyes locked with Abreo’s. “Nothing that seems to be-”

Marinette could do stern… occasionally. Ladybug could do stern whenever she wanted, without a doubt. It was easier, to be strong and courageous behind a mask that rendered all actions separate. She could do as she had to as Ladybug but still return to her life afterwards.

As Marinette, it felt like she had nowhere else to run.

But she decided to finish, regardless. “Nothing seems to be happening?”

“Do not interrupt me, _Marinette Dupain_ - _Cheng.”_

_“Y-yes, ma’am.”_

“That’s the first rule. The second is that you do as your told.”

Marinette almost interrupted again. Only a little. Just to argue her point, or to highlight the sheer logistical leaps the school was taking just to avoid an extra teeny-tiny bit of work.

Part of her imagined that Abreo felt the same and only had Marinette it take out her frustrations on. Or maybe she blamed Marinette and was tired at the very thought of going through the whole rigmarole again. For four days.

Until Friday.

“Admin do their jobs so that we have an easier time doing ours. I don’t know how their workload works. I don’t know how much time and effort it will take to switch you around classes.”

Not that much, surely.

“You are here until Friday. Nothing you or I can do will change that fact. And the sooner you accept that, the sooner we can begin getting through this.”

“Together?”

“No. You’re just embarrassed and frustrated, whilst I have to deal with an added student to an already busy class that has no concept of the systems or rules we have set in place. Or the schedule, or the attention span.”

Marinette totally had an attention span.

“You’re stuck here. You get to sit with little kids and paint pictures. Learn to enjoy it, or it is going to be a _very_ long week for the both of us. And believe you me, it would be very much to your detriment if you made this week any harder for me than it has to be.”

Marinette did not doubt it.

If anything, she felt like a child being scolded by someone so much bigger and scarier than herself. An authority figure who had direct power over her.

Irritation would take back control soon, she was sure of it. But right now, Abreo might as well have been her own teacher.

“Are we clear?”

Marinette sighed once again, before breathing in deeply. “Sure.”

_“Are we clear?”_

“Yes, definitely clear. Miss Abreo.”

And with that, she took her designated seat at her designated table. Right next to Leila and Martine.

“Hi,” Martine said, simply.

A part of Marinette wished she had the energy to push a peppy smile onto her face, just so the kids wouldn’t feel disheartened by her heavy attitude. But she didn’t, and only a mumbled ‘hi’ was returned.

Leila was keen to talking too, it seemed. “What’s up?” she asked.

And what use was there in looking a gift horse in the mouth?

“I’m stuck here until the end of the week,” Marinette replied, the whininess in her voice on full display. “I was only meant to be here a day.”

She wasn’t meant to be there at all.

Leila considered this. “We’re here every week. My moms say it’s because I need to get a job when I’m older and I won’t get a job if I don’t every year of school at least once.”

It sounded like her moms were prepared for Leila to repeat some years if it came to it. Marinette didn’t know if that was horribly pessimistic or incredibly supportive.

Either way, it wasn’t like they were wrong, was it?

“I’ve already been here though. Like, ten years ago.”

“That’s a very long time.”

Marinette nodded at Martine. “I know, right? A computer upstairs says I’m here, so I have to stay here until it says I’m not.”

“So… you’re only here because the computer says you’re meant to be here?” Leila scrunched her forehead together. “Didi the principal put you here?”

“No, there’s a mistake on one computer so I’m being told to stay here until it goes back to normal.”

“Couldn’t they fix the mistake?” Martine – one of the only two apparent sane people in the room – asked.

Marinette about jumped out from her chair. “Yes!”

At least, until Abreo gave her a look that very much implied she had better stay sat down. And quiet.

The irritation was already returning. It flourished out of the fear Marinette had felt only a few minutes ago and she so wished she could just it out and leave the classroom.

But that wouldn’t do.

You had to keep your emotions in check, Marinette especially. In Paris, any moment had the potential to reveal yet another Akumatized onto the streets. Each moment could be the one where Marinette was taken over, too.

Any moment could be the one that Hawk Moth finally caught Marinette in his twisted plan and having Ladybug under his control could only lead to disaster.

She had to keep calm. She had to stay rational.

She had to wait until the end of the week. This was the perfect moment that Hawk Moth could take advantage of, and she refused to give him that opening. She would keep the frustration, she would allow it to bubble and she would accept how it felt.

But she would let it go. If she didn’t, she posed a risk to Paris. And to the children around.

Having Ladybug out of action wasn’t exactly ideal, either. Cat Noire could handle himself, but what if the next creature was one that finally had an advantage over his powers?

That was why they worked so well as a team; they covered for each other. With the two of them there, there was always a constant between every new enemy and every new scheme.

Removing that constant could put them in danger. It could make protecting the city far less effective.

“I need to wait until Friday,” Marinette repeated out loud. At least so Leila and Martine could hear her.

She doubted they’d stop talking if she didn’t.

“I like Fridays,” Martine said. “It means we don’t have school for two days.”

Kindergarten was a tad easier than school (a whole bunch of tads) but Marinette wasn’t about to drop that bombshell. You needed to work up to the crushing reality of school. It would be cruel to throw everything at them at once.

“That will also be a pretty good bonus,” Marinette agreed.

It wasn’t even the kids, if she was being honest. It was the idea of being forced to stay in kindergarten for a _week_ because of nothing more than a clerical error.

_One that she was sure could be very easily fixed._

If she had been told she was helping out in the kindergarten, playing with the kids to keep them occupied or assist with teaching, Marinette would have had very little issue with that. It would have been an honour, if anything. She would have been assisting kids with their learning, helping them paint and going along with certain activities to help them feel included.

Being asked to do half those because she _had_ to did not hold the same sort of appeal. It felt more like a punishment.

Or a strong current. One she couldn’t fight against and one that took her along for a ride as she paddled furiously in the opposite direction

There was no fighting. You had to go along with it eventually.

It was the same with the admin, it seemed.

Maybe the teachers had fought it before. Maybe many had joined the school with bright eyes and naïve hearts with the conviction to turn the lives of the students around.

Maybe Abreo herself had tried to fight the almighty admin… and failed.

Maybe everyone had to do what admin said, eventually.

It was only then that Marinette realised a hushed quiet had taken over the room. Turning her eyes to Abreo, she could see why.

“Today we’re playing with the clay.”

It was a fresh pack, perfectly cuboid and with edges so straight that Marinette was almost sure that it must have dried and formed a brick already.

But as Abreo let it slam on the table, that was very much not the case it all just _sank_ when it met something solid.

“And then on Friday once they’re all dry, we’re going to paint them.”

All the kids cheered.

Marinette sighed once more and let her head hit the table. She may not have been the bag of clay, but she sure felt like it. All grey and mushy and altogether out of place in a room otherwise filled with tacky colours and joy.

As one, all the kids ran up from the chairs towards a corner of the room that held aprons. They lined the wall, nothing more than thick plastic sheet coated in streaks of paint and dubious looking stains with just enough fabric at the neck and waist for them to be worn by a child.

Marinette watched Leila and Martine join them, just as rampantly ecstatic.

Miss Soulier followed them all half-way, stopping just next to Marinette. “You might want to get one.”

They were far too small, and Marinette was far-too careful. “I think I’m good.”

“This stuff stains pretty bad.”

… Marinette had come in her nicer clothes today, if only to make up for her day in small-human jail the day before.

“How badly?”

“Badly enough that you’ll probably just reserve your clothes for painting and decorating after you’re done.”

“Is that from past experience?”

“Two kids and four years working here, so yes.”

Marinette wasn’t going to argue with that logic. Not when, knowing how her week was going, everything that could go wrong most certainly _would_ go wrong.

“Apron it is then.”

Miss Soulier remedied the size issue by offering to get one of her own. _Obviously the staff have larger sizes_ Marinette supposed.

Abreo came to them first.

“An apron,” she said, already holding one by the ties. Her face was no less stern than Marinette had always had the displeasure to experience, but it came as something more neutral. “I wouldn’t recommend wearing something small if you want your clothes to survive today.”

“I was just saying the same thing,” Miss Soulier added. “This stuff stains like you wouldn’t believe.”

Abreo handed the apron over, letting Marinette take it before wandering up to the kids proper. One was attempting to tie the apron upside down and another was trying to put it on like a cape. “There are much worse stains than clay. Believe me.”

Marinette was ready to ask what Abreo’s deal was, but Miss Soulier was already joining her, one moving to upside-down-girl and the other to Little Batman.

Martine and Leila were already getting back into their chairs and whilst Marinette pondered asking them, it felt wrong breaking whatever illusion they had of their teacher. Whether Abreo was mean or keen to be where she was, she clearly put the effort in to make the kids feel comfortable.

She expected them to start telling each other what they were going to make, but Martine turned to Marinette instead. “What are you going to make?”

“Yeah,” Leila joined. “You didn’t make a hat yesterday.”

“That sucked.”

“Yeah, older kids always make cool stuff when they come to our class.”

Oh? “Other kids come here?”

Leila smiled. “Sometimes they have classes where they have to visit us. I don’t know what that’s about. One boy comes here sometimes to help out Miss Soulier.”

“He’s super good at drawing.”

That… made sense, Marinette supposed. Most little kids she’d spoken to over the years found the small things she could do impressive, even if in reality they weren’t all that special. Anything more than a rough stickman appeared to genuinely impress kids who had yet to put hours into practising something they loved.

But in the moment since conversation had changed, it turned out that Martine had forgotten he’d even asked a question in the first place. “Oh, wait. What are you making, Marinette?”

There we go. “I… don’t know.” Did she really have to make something?

It must have been the sort of clay that dried at room temperature, right? There was no way a kindergarten project was going to use the kilns in the art department.

Then again, Marinette thought a lot of things wouldn’t happen at her school.

“I’m gonna make a skull,” Leila proclaimed. “With spiky teeth.”

“You really like skulls, don’t you?”

“Yeah, skulls are cool,” she replied. “When I grow up, I’m going to wear black every day and talk like a pirate.”

Mixing up the sorts of skulls each demographic uses there, but Marinette could _sort of_ see the appeal. Goth pirates had to be a thing somewhere.

And the little skulls she’d put on the hat had been rather more scientifically accurate that the one Marinette assumed she’d be making, but it was good to have a theme going, right?

So long as hawk Moth didn’t turn her into… Skull Girl? Skullery Maid?

His attacks shouldn’t be common enough for her that she spent her time thinking of names for the next Akumatized victims, but she supposed that’s where she’d ended up. A little numb to it, just like the rest of Paris.

Though she had to admit, she was proud of Skullery Maid. She could see that being on brand for Hawk Moth.

Perhaps sensing his own question would get an answer if he offered one first, Martine said, “I think I’ll make a monster.” Marinette hoped both of them stayed out of Hawk Moth’s grasp, for everyone’s sakes. “Because- cause then I can give it as many heads as I want. Lots of monsters just have one head, but there can be monsters with lots of heads.”

“Oooh, yes,” Leila agreed. “And they can all be different heads. I could make you a head.”

Martine practically exploded. “That would be so cool! You could make a little skull head.”

“Do you think Miss Abreo will let us make a bigger monster?”

“We could make it a little bigger right? But still make small heads?”

“She always says we need to use less stuff. We could use less clay and make a super monster.”

_“I love it so much!”_

Marinette suddenly had an idea of what she could make. “I could make you a head?”

It wasn’t often you saw a child explode twice, but Marinette found it par for the course for her week. “We could all make a head!”

“Who should make the body?”

Martine slowed at that. Apparently, the body hadn’t occurred to him at all. Though why would it, with as amazing a concept as multiple heads?

“One of us could make the body,” Martine replied, “and the other two can make a head?”

“But then it’ll only have two heads…”

Apparently, this was now very much a group project. “Yeah,” Martine sighed. “The body is going to take four-thousand times longer than the heads to make.”

And it was bizarre how quickly Marinette found herself pulled into it. It was hard not to, when you were around children. Their little worlds were so comfortable, compared to all the stresses and pressure put on you as you got older.

A part of Marinette would absolutely kill to go back to the days where her biggest problems in life were who was going to make the body of the clay sculpture they were making.

“I could make it, if you want?” Marinette suggested.

Martine narrowed his eyes. “But if you don’t make it fast you won’t have time to make a head.”

How little time did they get to make their sculptures?

A quick glance towards the other end of the room gave no answers. Abreo was delivering slices of clay to each child, setting down as they all started their own projects in innocent earnest.

The little grey blobs just being placed down still felt grim in contrast to the rest of the room, but thinking on it, that was sort of the point in clay, wasn’t it? You took this boring little lump of mush and changed it into something nice. Then painted it in awful colours when it was all dry.

And even before then, it usually wasn’t grey anymore. It was already something new.

“How long do they have to make them?” Marinette found herself asking.

Abreo was the one that answered, looking over to Marinette briefly before turning her attention back to the children. “One hour.”

“But it lets them socialise whilst doing something productive,” Miss Soulier added, closer to Marinette and quiet enough that only she could really hear. “Most will just make their model and leave when they’re finished.”

“Doesn’t that mean they could just leave now?”

“As long as they make something that they’ve put some effort into, that’s good enough for us. You can’t make them sit around at a desk all day. Most won’t listen, and those that do will get antsy eventually.”

That made sense. If Manon (and Marinette’s own childhood) was any indication, you couldn’t keep them distracted for too long without repercussions.

Usually a meltdown.

“Gotta work them up to a full day in school, I guess!”

Miss Soulier shrugged. “You’d be surprised how many kids are fine with just sitting down with something they enjoy. It’s just how you handle what comes right after that.”

And then Miss Abreo was at Leila and Martine’s desk, placing some clay down in front of them.

Then she came to Marinette.

“Just try and enjoy yourself,” she said tersely. “Thousands of kids would happily take your place.”

“I don’t want to fall behind.”

“We’re barely two months into the academic years; I think you’ll be fine.”

And then she was gone, continuing with her deliveries. Miss Soulier offered a simple thumbs up before she went on her own.

Then it was just Leila, Martine and Marinette.

“You still going to make the body?” he asked.

An hour was more than enough time. Even if the other two got bored, she could finish up the rest for them. If anything, Marinette would have rather spent a full hour on it, rather than leave partway through. Maybe that just came with being older, or finding at the school day always felt shorter when you had something to do.

Either way, she just smiled and replied, “Sure.”


	3. Day Three

Almost.

Almost halfway there.

Soon the admins dark purpose would be fulfilled, and Marinette would be free from her prison.

 _“It doesn’t sound that bad,”_ Alya had said.

In all honesty, it probably wasn’t.

Her dad had been less optimistic. _“I’m having words with that school. It just sounds like laziness to me.”_

It was probably that as well. Chloe had said a few choice words of her own, but Marinette preferred the wise words of Dad and Alya instead.

 _Chloé Bourgeois_ just left a bad taste in her mouth.

Day three had gone smoothly, for the most party. There had been ‘art’ in the morning, for as vague a class as that had turned out to be. Playtime, where Marinette had read a book outside. Snack time, the alphabet. Lunch time. More alphabet.

Nothing strange, nothing taxing.

It was the ‘nothing taxing’ part that had got to Marinette, in the end.

School could be boring; she would admit that to absolutely anyone who asked. Anyone. But it had to be said; the subjects were something you could engage in. The information was mature, and it was something you could learn from. It was new and fresh and that meant everything was something to add to your repertoire.

Having a whole ten minutes devoted to the letters G, then another ten to H and I was… less engaging.

There wasn’t even a new word she had learned. They were using all the same examples that she had heard as a child.

Or so she assumed, at any rate. It had been a while. But she was definitely more than aware that they existed now!

Moving onto J felt almost like a godsend, or it would have if that didn’t mean they were just starting on a new letter.

Never in all her schooling life had Marinette felt less engaged. There was nothing – absolutely nothing that stimulated her brain.

“Marinette, do you have a word beginning with J?”

Abreo’s voice was collected, calm. But it was enough to lure Marinette back from her numb stupor. Even her own name felt like a blaring claxon in an otherwise quiet night.

But now was her time to shine. Her parents had gotten them pizza last night. Her dad had gone spicy.

She had the perfect word.

“Jalapeno.”

Maybe for a moment, Abreo had forgotten she was speaking to someone with more than a pop-up book’s wealth of words. But she seemed ready for the comments that came after.

“That’s not a J words,” a little girl whispered. “It’s an A word.”

“It was a H word, actually,” Leila added.

“It was definitely an A word. All al-“ she tried. “Lalapen yos.” For all the effort the girl spent chewing on her tongue, she might as well as have eaten some ‘lalapen yos’. “Lallapen lo yoyos.”

Leila scrunched up her nose. “It’s hallabeneneros. They’re spicy. My sister ate one and had to go to hospital.”

“I think you mean habaneros,” Marinette said.

“Yeah, my sister ate one and had to go to hospital.”

It was only then that Marinette understood what Leila had meant. “Oh my god, really?! That’s-“

And then the room erupted into a chorus of gasps. “Miss Abreo! Marinette said a bad word. She said the _G word_.”

Was… was god a bad word to say when you were young? Granted, Marinette hadn’t said it in that context when she was a child, but-

“If we could all _quiet_ down,” Miss Abreo insisted. “Marinette, please mind your language.” Her eyes were not as cruel as Marinette had seen when she first arrived, but the stare said one thing very clear.

_Watch what you say around the children._

“She swore!”

“She should get kicked out of school forever. That’s what I would do if I had a teenager who swore.”

“And she didn’t even say a J word.”

“Actually, she did say a J word. And it’s a very hard one.” So said Miss Abreo, mighty witch of knowledge. At her simple confirmation, the children changed again, their little worlds changed forever by this – admittedly cocky – J word.

“And what do we do when someone gives us a very good answer?”

“We give them a gold star,” a boy said.

“Very good, James.”

And as foretold, a star did come; Miss Abreo went over to her desk and fished out a small card with stickers on it. She peeled off a single star and made her way through the gaggle of children.

“We have a chart, but as you’re only here for a week, you can wear yours,” she said. Pleasantly, perhaps because of the children all around her.

Something deep inside you never went away. The sort of something that made you happy to receive a star from a teacher or sweets from the dentist.

It said, “Hell yeah!”

But Marinette didn’t quite feel like saying anything remotely inflammatory, this time. Not when the kids were around.

Or remotely able to get in trouble for doing so.

She settled on, “Uh, thanks,” instead.

She took the sticker and popped it on her shirt, just below the collar bone. If the brief awe of silence around the room indicated, wearing your sticker was not a common occurrence.

Marinette hadn’t noticed a star chat of any sort, but she was sure it brought something competitive out in the children, as young as they were.

Back at the front of the class, Miss Abreo grabbed their attention once more. “Jalapeno is a very long word,” she said, writing it up on the board. “It is a kind of pepper and is very spicy. But not as spicy as a habanero pepper. And what letter does habanero begin with?” she asked, focusing in one girl. “Suzie?”

“… H?”

“Very good.” But no gold star, apparently.

Martine was still curious, however. “But- but why doesn’t hallyponyos begin with an H, too?”

Whether this was ever going to be covered in their class or not, Abreo seemed to resign herself to the fact that it was going to be now.

“There are a few reasons. The most important is that it comes a different language. And different languages have different ways to say certain letters.”

The very idea seemed alien to Martine, and as Marinette held her head high, the tiredness abated for the time being. Whether it returned or not would depend on how adventurous Abreo got with her detail on other words from other languages.

But, at the very least, Marinette now had a gold star. Despite everything she was being put through, that still instilled a giddy sort of excitement in her heart.

Even if she didn’t take it too seriously, it would be something to brag to Alya about when the day was over.


	4. Day Four

Two days to go.

Two days and she would be free. Back to her life as a normal teenage girl who just so happened to fight crime when no one was looking. Perfectly normal, in every way.

That would mean getting back to normal, which was brilliant. Though even Marinette had to admit that a few days of doing nothing but speaking with children and painting with your fingers was an easy way to spend your days. It offered less stress, less things that could go wrong.

Marinette still wished for the days when life was this simple. Before she turned ten, let alone began her time as Ladybug.

Life was way simpler when you were a kid, even if you didn’t think about it at the time. All your problems were relatively small, as big as they sometimes felt. Like talking to your first crush or working out how to lie to your parents for the first time.

You had less responsibilities. You had less things in life pulling you down and your friends were the most important part of your life, only coming after your family and those treats you were only allowed once a week.

Life had been simple.

Marinette had gotten a reminder of that, even if being a teenager made a lot of it rather frustrating. Being confined to simple tasks and simple projects left more than a little challenge to be desired.

Marinette never thought she’d say it, but she missed having work she needed to actually think about.

Without the challenge, a lot of the work the kids were doing felt empty. Like reading a story when you know the plot; it may be fun, but you wouldn’t ever recapture the magic you experienced the first time.

But having fun was pretty nice too, sometimes.

Like watching a film you’ve already seen whilst playing games on your phone or doing something that barely requires your attention at all.

Just something _fun_ that doesn’t require the effort many fun things require when you’re older. No planning around commitments, no relying on other services to ensure the fun still happens as planned. No working around the busy schedules that your friends have, as well as your own.

Building little plasticine figures and playing with them felt much the same. Just making little things with your hands and chatting to your friends.

“What are you making?” Marinette asked, her hands automatic as she smooshed and pulled at the almost-solid mass in her hands.

“Skull superhero,” Leila answered. Typical Leila. “She’s like the guy on the bike with the fiery head, except she eats all the bad guys instead.”

… Typical Leila. Marinette still hoped to high heaven that she would never become Akumatized. One person insults one of her drawings or creations and very suddenly, Skullery Maid is going to become a terrifying reality.

Again, it was strange how commonplace such a thought felt. Marinette should not have been as ready as she was to accept fighting Evil Leila whilst masquerading as Ladybug.

But she didn’t let that show. That might be enough to set the problem itself in motion. “How about you, Martine?”

“A car.”

Oh… right. Okay.

A bit underwhelming compared to Skull Lady, but Marinette supposed she should have expected that for anything that came after asking Leila. “What kind of car?”

“It’s gonna be the bad guy that Skull Face fights. He drives around the city eating people and taking them places they don’t want to go.”

“Like the dentist,” Leila added

“Or clothes shopping.”

“So… they both eat people?” Marinette asked, curiosity piqued.

Both answered, “Yeah,” at once, not a single ounce of irony between them.

Though a show where both the hero and the villain ate people could work pretty well. There could be comparisons for their methods, or something like that. One of the superhero stories that looked into the idea of superheroes, rather than just being action packed. You’d have all the moral dilemmas.

Or not; that would be the hook!

Even getting lost in thought like this and losing nothing whilst doing so felt liberating. Marinette could let her head wander and it removed absolutely nothing from her day.

Nothing she was supposed to be doing at the same time, or people to-

“Marinette!”

Well, maybe some people to ask her why she was spacing out. “Marinette,” Leila repeated.

“Yes?”

“What are you making?”

“Oh! Yeah.” Right. She _had_ been talking to them, hadn’t she? “I’m building…” What had she been building?

Marinette looked down at the glory that was her creation. She had been attempting to make Ladybug, or something remotely similar to a superhero. But the plasticine was old, and all the colours used in the weeks prior had melded into a blue and red and green and slightly yellow bulge of material that held no distinct tone at all.

Everything was the same shades of colour, the same texture. There had been separate colours at one point, maybe even ones used to make creative little models.

But then they were all crushed together at the day’s end and their majesty lost forever.

“I’m making a blob monster?”

It was a basic answer, and not one Marinette would have accepted if she had been given the same answer in any context in her own classes.

Not that she’d have anything like this in her normal class, but the point remained.

But Leila and Martine weren’t quite like Marinette. “Cool,” he said.

Then Leila. “What does she turn into?”

Marinette would usually call a blob monster male on instinct, but perhaps she was the one that was behind the times. Or she was too used to the cartoons she watched as a kid. “She, uh, turns into other objects. And gets their powers.”

So,” Martine began, “if she turns into a car, she has all the powers of a car?”

“Sure.” Why not?

“That sounds pretty OP,” Leila whispered, her conspirator moving in close. “What if she just turned into fire and burned everyone?”

“I don’t think fire is an object,” Martine replied. “I think. Because- because it isn’t a shape, like water. But she could turn into a tree and fall on someone.”

“Or turn into Batman and she’d be Batman.”

“And she kidnaps him and takes his place and becomes the new Batman.”

“Ooh, that’s cool. OP, but cool.”

“What does OP stand for?”

“I dunno, but it means super powerful and stronger than anything else.”

“Whoa.”

They were so unfiltered, too. Whenever the spoke together, it was like they just let every single idea they had tumble out of their mouths before they even realised it was an idea that they had.

A bit like Mariette, then. Only less embarrassed when they were finished.

If they were embarrassed at all.

“It means Overpowered,” Marinette added. “My friend Nico says it a lot.”

“Oh.” Leila paused. Marinette could see her connecting O and P to the word she’d provided before coming out pleased with the answer. “That makes sense. Your blob monster is OP.”

And whenever they spoke, Marinette found it so pleasant to just keep the conversation going. “Yeah, but just because she can turn into stuff and get their powers, it doesn’t mean she’s good at using them. What if she turns into Batman but doesn’t know how to do all the stuff Batman does?”

Their eyes had been opened, and as their little brains stopped, Marinette was sure she could see into their very souls as they picked apart the subtilties of the mighty Blob Monster.

“Oh my God,” Leila whispered… before slapping her hands over her mouth and turning so hard to Miss Abreo that she should have by all rights experienced whiplash.

But Miss Abreo was busy with a little girl with plasticine wound tight into her hair.

But then she turned back, and it was like she’d never been worried at all. “What if she turns into Spider-Man but can’t shoot the webs and falls off a building and just dies?”

Martine was quick. “She would just splat on the floor. Or turn into a bouncy ball.”

“That’s how she escapes getting captured. She turns into a bouncy ball and just sits on the side of the street and no one can find her.”

“Or she turns into a _whole_ building and sits there for fifty years until everyone forgets about her then takes over the world.”

This universe that they were crafting before Marinette’s eyes was both ludicrous and amazing at the same time.

Much like watching a film whilst she kept her hands busy, she was content just to watch. Even without her input, Martine and Leila were happy to keep going, adding to this character who had never existed before. As if they’d just spent the entire weekend watching her on television.

And they’d likely forget all about it by the end of the day. There was no pressure to remember something, or keep the idea going or even to write it down.

They just came and went wherever their fancies took them and that was enough.

“And what are you two talking about?”

Getting distracted was still very much Marinette’s thing, however; Miss Abreo was the table, her smile playfully curious as she knelt down to get her eyes level with Leila and Martine.

“Marinette made a blob monster and it’s super cool.”

The teacher peered over at Marinette’s utterly lacklustre model, regarding it as if it were indeed ‘super cool’. Even through the nod and the admiration, Marinette could see that it was just all pretend, but it was enough to agree with Leila regardless.

“It is very good.”

“And she- and she can turn into Batman,” Martine added.

“Oh, she must be very cool then.”

Miss Abreo was careful never be too accurate, Marinette found.

She always asked for students to tell her more about a drawing, rather than ask what it was. She praised positive claims whilst frowning with the ones that children thought were negative.

If the bad guy was cool, she agreed.

If the bad guy was a _bad guy_ , she agreed with that too.

She repeated words they used, affirmed their beliefs and didn’t question the unimportant things. The blob monster was a girl; that was all she needed to know. And if she wasn’t sure, she always used ‘they’ in its place.

No matter what the topic was, she adapted to it and fell in with anything the kids said to her. Even new games and shows that she surely didn’t know but could work with regardless.

She let the kids start conversation, and she just went along with it.

Leila was still carrying it on, only affirming that notion in Marinette’s head. “But turning into Batman doesn’t mean she’s good at being Batman, so she has to learn what he does.”

“And if she turns into a digger, she has to learn how to be a digger, because- because otherwise that would be cheating, and she’d have too many powers.”

Marinette didn’t know when turning into a truck had been on the table, but she wasn’t there to question it. Neither was Abreo.

“You’ve thought this through very well then.”

“Marinette was the one that said she might not always know how to use the powers of the things she can turn into,” Leila said. “Because when you think about it, it makes a lot of sense.”

Abreo nodded. “And it’s very important to think about these ideas when being creative. If you think beyond the first idea, you make something better and better.”

“Blob monster is definitely getting better and better,” Martine agreed.

“What if she turned into the _moon?”_ Leila asked Martine. “She’d the be the entire _moon_.”

“If she turns into the moon, would she get as big as the moon, or stay a little moon?”

Leila didn’t know, and their conversation continued.

In the absence of their attention, Abreo shifted to Marinette. “They can be a bit of a handful when they get together, so it’s nice seeing them explore deeper ideas rather than jumping from one to the other.”

It… was, Marinette thought. It really was.

The two of them were so quick to drop ideas – Marinette had thought so herself not even that long ago – but it was amazing to see them apply that to one idea. A constant stream of improvements to their story that might have otherwise jumped between so many different topics that they’d forget about every single one.

Maybe they wouldn’t forget about the blob girl.

“I do stand by the admin in that you’re a student, not an assistant,” Abreo said next. “But it is rather nice that you’re treating them like equals.”

“It would be mean not to, wouldn’t it?”

“It would. But talking with them about their ideas rather than outright dismissing them is rather what we look for in our best staff members. It can be hard to follow the logic of a child, let alone two who go from subject to subject as quickly as Leila and Martine.” Abreo smiled again. “It’s important for them to learn about thinking deeper into ideas, and it is rather than nice that you offered it to them so casually.”

Praise though it was, it felt rather majestic compared to the truth that she’d blurted out the first idea that came to mind.

Much like a child herself, she supposed.

“I’ll let you get back to your blob monster,” Miss Abreo offered. “Playing with them is useful at keeping them occupied but talking to them can do the world of difference.”

And as Marinette watched them build up the lore of the blob monster and how she battles Skull Girl and an Evil car, she could only agree.


	5. Day Five

The dawn of the final day.

Or the end of it, as it happened. Almost. There was one more activity for the day and honestly? Marinette was looking forward to it.

“I have all your clay projects set out on the back table. One by one we’re going to hand them out and you’ll get to paint them.”

It would be a nice end to the week; finishing one of the projects that had began with her new friends at the start of it. Their three headed monstrosity required colour and life and they would be the ones to deliver it.

The heads had sagged ever so slightly in the drying process, but the toothpicks Abreo had put inside (even with logic on her side, Marinette was not allowed to use them either. Stupid legal mumbo-jumbo) had kept them stable enough.

And with it in front of them, there was only one question left. “What colour do you guys want to paint it?” Marinette asked.

“We should each paint our own head,” Leila replied.

Martine agreed. “Yeah! Cause then they will all be super different.”

“Then we can all paint the body at the same time, so it all looks super weird.”

Marinette wasn’t sure about the logistics of them all painting the body at the exact same time, given the relatively small size but she’d learned not to use that sort of thinking around younger kids. It was easier to go with it and let them solve the issues as they came up.

But they all agreed, and that was that.

The logic behind painting each head at the same time was also an issue, but sitting back as they did their thing, Marinette found that it offered enough space. She would just paint her own afterwards.

For the most part, Leila and Martine made their heads block colours, only choosing something else to add to the eyes or they mouth. Despite having made a mouth already, Martine painted over it and created an uncanny smile. Leila painted hers black with bright, white eyes.

She didn’t add a mouth, but Marinette found that pretty much on-brand for Leila at this point.

“Now you guys can start the body and I’ll paint my head.”

“Cool,” Martine said. “I’m going to do stripes and a star.”

“I’m just gonna use colours and see what happens.”

Marinette found the red paint (and the very much not red brush she was going to have to use) and got to work on her own head.

Red with black polka dots was perhaps not the most imaginative design she could have went for, nor was it entirely impressive when that amounted to not much more than red with black blobs every now and then. Adding a little pair of blue eyes felt nice though and all said and done, it felt… good.

Despite the mismatched nature of the statue and all the globs of paint all over the place, she was proud of it. In a weird sort of way.

It wouldn’t win any awards, nor would it be praised as a fine piece of art created by an unknown artist. It was just a thing she had made with two children and that made it feel more important than either prior accolade combined.

Leila and Martine even left her a leg and the butt to paint herself.

“We saved you the best bits,” Leila had said.

A whole leg and the butt. The finest body parts, so sayeth Leila.

But even that felt nice, knowing they’d thought the process through enough to involve her at the end.

The rest of the body was an utter mishmash of maybe-patterns and mixed colours. Red and blues and blacks made most of the thing a dingy purple with bright lines of vibrant colour. It only made Marinette’s more-red and more polka dots feel even more out of place.

But that was how she’d felt all week, so it felt right.

“It’s amazing,” Leila claimed.

For it was indeed a mighty beast.

A strange and… complicated beast that likely had many personal issues that it needed to work through, but a mighty beast all the same.

“Does it have a name?” Marinette asked. “We should give it a name.”

“We should mix up all our names!” Leila cheered.

“Ooh, we should! That would- it would be so cool!”

Leila paused for a moment, her eyes scrunching together. “Martileilanette.”

It was perfect. “I like it,” Marinette said.

“It’s amazing,” Martine agreed. “I’d love to have this as a pet.”

So long as it stayed the size it was now, Marinette wouldn’t be opposed.

The size of a cat? Maybe.

Anything bigger and you had several deaths and just as many lawsuits waiting to happen. But then that was logic that didn’t to be applied to a fantasy creature made from clay, so Marinette let it be.

“So, we’re done?” she asked.

“We’re done,” Leila replied. “It. Is. _Perfection_.”

It was perfect timing, too; there was a bell in the distance that announced that yes, the school day was indeed over.

As was Marinette’s sentence by the admins.

“Is this still your last day?” Martine asked, wiping his hands on his jeans. That would be… fun for his parents to wash. “It was really fun making stuff with you.”

“Yeah, it was super fun!”

Marinette went to answer, but Abreo was there first.

“Right class, I know it’s Friday but that doesn’t mean you get to rush. Take your time to wash your hands and then we can get your bags.”

All bags were kept in the cubby holes outside. If not for the safety, then to ensure they did not get covered and paint and all the other sticky things children played with.

“And before we do, let’s all say a very big goodbye to Marinette.”

There had been the announcement at the start of the day that this would be Marinette’s last, but nothing much had came of it. A few sad faces and a few questions here and there. As well as the confirmation that the admins had definitely, _definitely_ found the issue that had caused the whole mess in the first place.

But the kids didn’t know about that.

“Bye Marinette!” they all cheered, as one.

It felt less creepy, now. More like a crowd than one mass of voices screaming at once.

Then she felt a hug at her waist. “Bye Marinette!” Martine repeated. “It was super fun having you here.”

“Yeah, super fun.” Leila didn’t move in for the hug, but she was all smiles all the same. “You should do the thing where the older kids visit sometime, then we can hang out and stuff.”

And it wasn’t a bad idea, in all honesty.

Marinette had been thinking it over since Wednesday, if she was being honest. Being a student in the class again would be… frustrating, to say the least. But coming back to play with the kids and help out with their lessons?

That sounded lovely. She’d have the time to let her head empty… but also the chance to really help at the same time. She’d have the best of both worlds.

She would have to ask about it.

“It was lovely having you,” Abreo finished, her smile… genuine. So far as Marinette could tell. “I know a few of the students will really miss you.”

And Marinette would miss them.


	6. Saturday

The weekend was great no matter how you spun it.

Even more so for Marinette, now that she had two days to herself, and then a normal life when she returned to school the day after that.

Her dad’s ‘kind words’ to the principal about the mix-up may have helped in that regard, but all the same, it left a pleasant glow in Marinette’s stomach. The promise of normality.

No matter how much she might miss just sitting around playing with kids.

But that was also something you could do outside of school, too.

“Hey, I’m surprised to see you here,” Alya said. “Miss your time in kindergarten” she added, her smile so wide Marinette could hang it between to trees and sit on it.

“No, I’m just dropping by. How’s Manon?”

Both girls turned to face the playpark, watching Manon climb the nearby steps of the slide, park herself down and ride all the way down. Falling off the edge, hitting the ground.

Then going back to do it again the exact same way.

Behind the slide were several other kids. Two in particular, as their respective parents watched on. Alya followed the gaze. “Oh yeah, they were the kids you were spending time with.”

“Thought I’d see how they were doing.”

“You’ve not even been gone from the class twenty-four hours.”

“I know! But I’ve spent all week with them. Hard to just say goodbye like that, you know?”

Alya nodded. “Yeah, I’d feel weird never seeing Manon again.” But then she smiled. “Why don’t you go and say hi? I’m sure if you met the parents first, they’d recognise the girl their kids have talking about all week.”

“Probably.” And it did sound fun.

Or at the very least, nice to see them for a time outside of school, even if it was just once or twice. She was going to ask about the assistant roles next week, when she had the time. It might be something to actually follow through with.

Maybe not as a full-time job, but something nonetheless.

When Leila turned towards the fence and the choice was made for her. “Marinette!”

And when Martine turned with her as well, Marinette couldn’t hold back a gleeful smile.


End file.
